


On the offline

by persephx



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, bucky is a phone addict idk, disguised nat, i really don't know how to tag this, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephx/pseuds/persephx
Summary: Bucky is a phone addict and when he finally seeks help and goes to a camp to help make it better, he meets Clint, his hot camp monitor.





	On the offline

** **

Bucky might be a tiny little bit addicted to his phone. Well. A whole lot addicted. And it wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that he spends up to 10 hours using his phone, and even his friends have called him on it.

“Man, you need help,” was what Sam had said, just a comment in passing, something that Bucky hadn’t taken too seriously.

But then, Steve had to also say something, just a few weeks after that. “Bucky, are you okay? You seem tired. I bet you stayed up on twitter or something.” At Bucky’s nod, he had sighed. “You need to stop doing that, you’re missing out on life.”

And that had stuck with him. He was constantly watching films (half watching, if he was honest with himself, as he usually scrolled through twitter while the films were on) about people living their best lives and he… Well, he was not. He was thirty-two years old and a phone addict. That realization had made him seek help, and knowing he wasn’t the only one to be like that made him feel better, but accepting that he _needed_ a camp to change his ways, to turn him back into a “normal” person took more time.

In the end, he had Steve drive him to the camp. That way, he’d have to call him if he wanted to get out before the time he was supposed to, and he knew himself well enough to know that it would kill his pride. He was playing mind games on his future self, but that only meant that he really wanted to get better.

“I’m proud of you for doing this,” Steve had said, around the second hour of driving – the camp was in the middle of nowhere, signal probably didn’t even reach it, and Bucky guessed that was a good thing, but he couldn’t really make himself believe there were still places like that.

He had felt awkward, having his childhood friend saying he was proud for what felt like such a stupid thing. “Thanks, Steve,” he had muttered, looking out through the window.

Steve had grabbed his arm and squeezed softly. “Really, Buck.” And he had just nodded in answer.

When they got to the camp – it felt like he was eleven years old again and was spending the summer with other kids to give his poor parents a few weeks to relax, not like he was a thirty-two year-old having to force himself to detox from mobile phones – they both exited the car, and Bucky handed his phone to Steve.

“Take care of her,” he said, jokingly.

Steve had once complained that Bucky liked his phone so much that he had given it a name, and since then, his iPhone 8 had turned into Irma. He was funny like that.

“I’ll tell your mom if she calls,” Steve answered, after rolling his eyes. “And your sister.”

“Do not dare tell Becca, Rogers,” he warned. He only received a cheeky smile as an answer.

“Go ask where you’re supposed to put your stuff so I can leave, I have an episode of Doctor Who waiting for me.”

And Bucky almost whined. Almost. Because he had some dignity. Just a tiny bit, that apparently was enough to not whine when not being able to watch a show.

A woman in the main building asked for his name and gave him a key to a room in the second building, telling him he’d be sharing it but that his roommate hadn’t arrived yet. Bucky really hoped they weren’t an asshole, he could not live with assholes – that was why he’d moved out from the apartment he shared with Steve as soon as he could afford it.

Steve went with him to look for his room, and carried his bag for him (he was all big for something) but left soon after, making another comment about that Doctor Who episode with a crooked smile. Bucky really hated that ass.

It turned out that his roommate was indeed an asshole. And the one and only Tony Stark, too. He didn’t know for sure why a guy like that would end up in a place like this – he made money out of his addiction, so surely it couldn’t be that bad, but tried to not make any comments about it.

So, by the end of the day, he’d ended up being somewhat friends with a millionaire, and he’d also spent about ten hours without his phone, which was an accomplishment. It sounded really sad if he thought about it like that – he’d grown up without a phone, how the hell had he become so dependent on it? He couldn’t think about an answer to it, so he tried to keep it out of this mind and tried to sleep.

The next morning, he met the “camp monitors”, and he definitely felt stupid and like a kid, and he hated the experience. What he hated the most, though, was how hot Clint was. Clint was there to give them classes of archery and some other stuff that would help them reconnect with nature, and Bucky couldn’t help but think about one particular activity involving the two of them that would definitely help.

He tried to keep those thoughts at the minimum, but the truth is that he was salivating after Clint during that whole day. And, well, every other day too.

One day he was going to get caught and die of embarrassment. He had no doubt Clint would be nice about it, but he had absolutely no chance. Firstly, he didn’t even know if Clint was into guys. And, secondly, even if he was, there was no way an outdoor-sy, archer-guy like him would end up with a city boy like Bucky, who had literally been in the need of someone taking his phone so that he’d socialize – he was literally getting help because of that. It was pathetic – he was pathetic.

So he just looked and tried to not be very suspicious about it.

He, apparently, failed horribly.

It was the day before the last day and everyone was sitting on a picnic table just talking when Clint walked towards them. Immediately, two different people elbowed Bucky (Natalia and Jill), who just lowered his head and gazed intently at the table.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” he heard Clint’s easy-going voice. “I need someone to help me with some boxes, if anyone of you doesn’t mind?”

“Bucky can help you,” Natalia said practically as soon as the other man had finished talking.

Bucky raised his head when he heard his name and found a vision that almost killed him: Clint with a muscle tee and sheen of sweat. God.

“Can you?” When that bright smile was directed at him, Bucky nodded instantly, only to think about what would have happened if that had been a _serious_ question, would he have answered the same way? He hoped not.

“Sure,” he said in a small voice.

He had spent a lot of time with Clint, but there had always been someone else with them, either another “camper” or another “camp monitor”, but he was not twelve, so he was going to deal with it in an adult way: denial. He had no crush on Clint. He didn’t mind being alone with him. Why would he?

Except, as soon as they got to whatever room Clint has those boxes he needed help with, he was being crowded against a wall. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” Clint said, whispering.

“Not wrong,” was all that Bucky could answer.

And then they kissed. And by the time Bucky had gotten home – after Steve had gone to get him – he’d been texting Clint and had a date scheduled for next month, when Clint finally got home (Brooklyn, Bucky knew how to pick them) for a break.


End file.
